Wounded Duck
by SalyaSky
Summary: Now finished! This is normal new female hockey player at Eden Hall. Difference is that the Ducks are no longer the JV team, now there are tryouts. Who will make varsity?
1. Moving Day

Disclaimer- I don't own any Ducks, (well I do own a rubber ducky) that's Disney's. I do own Rae though, so no stealing.

Wounded Duck

By SalyaSky

Chapter 1-Moving Day

            I've always liked new experiences; they're usually full of adventure and excitement. But I could do without this new experience; I don't see what could be so exciting about it, okay so that's a lie. It will be exciting to be on a top ranked hockey team but that's about it. And to get that new and exciting thing I had to leave home and all my friends, ones I had just made, to come half way across the country. Why couldn't they have sent me to a prep school within our state? Why do I even bother to ask that question when I know the answer. They think my friends are a bad influence on me, what a bunch of bull. Ah, why do I keep torturing myself with these musings when I know they'll solve nothing? Time to turn my thoughts to the future not the past, never the past. 

The taxi has stopped, must be my new home. Yay. I climb out to view my new surroundings. They just scream wealth and snobbery. The buildings are large, blockish and red brick. There are black wrought iron gates. A wall surrounds the campus with black iron spikes on the top, to keep people out or in? The lawn is neatly trimmed and so are bushes and trees. The local populous, the students, seemed just as neatly trimmed with there designer preppy clothes. I wonder if they bath in their money like Scrooge McDuck. 

I turn back to the cab driver who has taken out my luggage while I was perusing the scene. I hand him the money for the ride and he takes off to find another fare. How lucky, he gets to leave. I look at my luggage, one overly large duffel bag, one stuffed to the max hockey bag (not just hockey equipment in it), one fairly large cardboard box, a couple of hockey sticks, and my crammed back pack. It's hard to pack all your belongings when your mode of transportation is a plane. I heave my shoulders in a sigh. Time to get moving. I put my backpack on, sling the duffel bag crosswise over my shoulder, heft the hockey bag onto the other shoulder, pick up my hockey sticks, and then heave the box up. Now all I have to do is carry this stuff all the way to my dorm. First I have to find my dorm. Well, this should be a lovely hike. At least the scenery is nice, if you ignore the people.

Thankfully all the buildings have their names on them in big bold letters. I'm looking for West, it's an all girls' dorm, shudder, I can't stand girls (all right, most girls), too bad I'm one of them. Here's West at the far end of campus, I bet they did that on purpose, people with numb arms can't get into too much trouble on the first day. Now how to negotiate through the doors? I could always drop the box, open the door, slide the box through, and pick it back up on the other side. Yep, that sounds best. 

"Hey, need any help." I turn to face the voice. Two boys stand there, one who's tall and lanky with a cowboy hat on his head and one who's on the chubby side (understatement of the year). I smile big and broad.

"Thank God. I would love the help. Keeping my arms attached to my body is a priority I have," I say to them.

They smile and move to grab something from me. "By the way, my name's Goldberg," says the chubby one, "and this is Dwayne."

"I'm Rae."

Goldberg takes the box and promptly stumbles forward almost dropping it. "Holy, what's in this thing?" he exclaims as he pulls himself together and hefts the box in a better grip, strain evident on his face. I hide a smile.

"It's got my stereo and a few other things."

Dwayne takes my hockey bag, and does the same thing as Goldberg did with the box. "What are you, a goalie?" he says in a Texan accent.

"No, I have more in there than hockey equipment, I couldn't fit everything in my duffel or box."

They both nod. "Ah, can we hurry this up a bit, this thing is heavy," Goldberg says. I laugh.

"Sure no problem." I open the door for them.

We make our way up to the third floor with only the occasional stop for them to shift their luggage. I try not to smile to widely, they were just trying to be nice, and you can't make fun of them for that. We finally make it to my dorm and the boys give a relieved sigh. I smirk at them before going in. The room's not that remarkable, two beds, two desks, two bureaus, tow closets, large window, off-white walls, and a skinny blonde. That must be my roommate, oh joy. She turns to us as we enter the room. The wide, cheerleading smile slightly falters as she takes in my appearance. I guess she wasn't expecting a broad shouldered girl wearing baggy cargo pants and t-shirt, with an eyebrow ring and blue-tipped short black hair. Not to mention the scar that ran across my cheek and into my hair, turning that hair over it white, that some said lent me an air of danger.

I smile back, taking in the miniature tight clothes, the multitude of blonde curls and the cute facial features. Gag. Oh, this is going to be fun, All-American cheerleader meets All-American tomboy. I almost laugh outright.

The guys behind me clear their throats to get my attention. I turn back to them.

"Oh, sorry guys. You can just throw the stuff on my side of the room." They do, and then rub their arms and shoulders in ecstasy.

"Hey, Rae, when you go to lunch find us and we can eat together, bring your roommate if you want," Goldberg said just before they leave.

My roommate speaks up. "Hi, my name's Stephanie."

"Rae."

"Ah, Rae. What an interesting name." She glanced at my things.

"So you play hockey?"

"Yup."

"I'm a cheerleader myself." No kidding. "Well, I say we get to unpacking so we can make lunch. What do you think?"

"Sure. I think that's a great idea."

We turn to our own things and start unpacking. The first thing she pulls out is a fluffy pink bedspread. I groan inwardly. This is going to be one hell of a long year.

A/N-Hope you find this somewhat interesting. Reviews highly welcomed. 


	2. Introductions

Disclaimer-Remember the rubber ducky, that's the only duck I own, Disney owns the hockey players.

Wounded Duck

 By SalyaSky

Chapter 2-Introductions

            Calling it a cafeteria is just not right, a cafeteria is a small area filled with plastic or metal tables and similar chairs, the floors were usually linoleum or sometimes even carpeted (mmm ground in French fries). The Eden Hall eating area is  grander and a whole lot more expensive looking, what with it's wooden paneling, wooden tables, and wooden floors. This is a dining hall, it even somewhat resembles a medieval hall, it had the tapestries now all it needed was a grand fireplace. Do they really have to scream their wealth at us? 

            I grab a soda, sandwich, bag of chips, and a brownie from the lunch line and look around for my moving men. Stephanie decided not to eat with me, she'd rather eat with the cheerleader types. What a surprise. I finally spot Dwayne and Goldberg. I walk over to them and they wave when they see me. 

            "Hey, Rae," they say in unison. 

            "Hey, Dwayne, Goldberg." I sat down next to Dwayne who was sitting across from Goldberg. A big, muscle bound guy took a seat next to Goldberg. He glanced me over then took a look at Dwayne and Goldberg.

            "Hey guys. Who's the girl?"

            "My name is Rae. And you would be?"

            "Name's Portman."

            "Rae's a hockey player, too." Goldberg says. I glance up at Portman, muscle bound, dim of wit, definitely the jock type.

            "So you play hockey," I say.

            He looks up and nods then gestures to the others. "We all do. We're the Ducks. The JV team here."

            I look at the others, they definitely have an eclectic team. Wait, Ducks? Is the Scrooge thing true? Did they name their team after their cartoon hero? "I thought the school mascot was a warrior not a duck?"

            "It is a warrior, but we were the ducks before we came here, the whole team got a scholarship," Portman informed me. 

            "So they made you all a JV team instead of having tryouts?"

            "Kinda, except Banksie was on the Varsity team for a while but then we got him back." He looks all proud and smug.

            "So your saying it was a good thing that this Banksie guy was taken off a Varsity team where he could get a lot of competition, and placed on a JV team?"

            They all look disgruntled. "Look it's not—"

            "Hey, guys," Goldberg is interrupted by a blonde girl.

            They turn to her and smile. "Hey, Julie."

            She turns to me after she sits down. "Hi, my names Julie Gaffney."

            "I'm Rae."

            "I here you were talking about hockey, you play?"

            "Yep."

            "What position?"

            "Center. You?"

            "Goalie."

            "Any good?"

            "Yep. You?"

            "The best."

            "A bit arrogant aren't you?" Portman interjects.

            "Probably not more arrogant than you," I shoot back. The table goes silent as Portman stares at me. Then he smiles.

            "Yeah, your probably right on that one." Everyone laughs.

            "So, Rae, where you from?" Dwayne asks.

            "Maine."

            "Really? Me too!" Julie almost squeals. I wince and catch myself before my hands clasp my ears. "What part? What team did you play for?"

            "I played for Old Town and PVHC girls travel."

            "No way. I played for Bangor."

            "Huh, we probably faced off a few times."

            "That's so cool. Now we can share memories from home." I spread my lips in a smile, yay, just what I want to do, talk about memories. 

            "So where are the rest of you from?"

            "Texas," Dwayne says, like I didn't know.

            "Right here in Minnesota," Goldberg says.

            "Chicago," Portman says, I note that he said a city not a state, probably because he thinks his city is all big and important so everybody knows which state it's in, which it is, but I like to be difficult, if only in my head.

            "Miami." Another important person. I turn to the owner of the voice. Hmm, pretty boy, ladies man, ooh this should be fun.

            "And you are?" I say.

            "Louis Mendoza, at your service." He slightly bows. I stifle a chuckle, definitely a ladies man.

            "Thanks Mendoza but I wont be needing your services today, or any day for that matter." The others chuckle.

            "Louis, meet one the newest hockey players to come to Eden Hall, Rae," Julie made the introductions.

            He sits down with us. "Pleased to meet you."

            "I bet," I say sarcastically rolling my eyes.

            "Have you guys seen any of the others?" he asks the group. 

            "Nah, the locals may not even move in 'till tomorrow when classes start," Goldberg says.

            "Why are you already moved in?" I ask him.

            "Actually, I haven't moved in, I was just scoping out the new players."

            I raise an eyebrow. "So the only reason you helped me was because I was carrying some hockey sticks?"

            He looks agitated. "No! I helped you because you looked like you needed it."

            "Help?" Julie asks.

            "Yeah, she was struggling with a huge load of luggage. So we offered to carry something for her."

            Portman smirks. "_You_ carried something for her?"

            The others chuckled.

            In the course of talking we had finished our food. These people are fairly interesting, not mind numbingly annoying, that's good, and they play hockey so we have things to talk about. Woohoo, I have new friends, until they get on my nerves of course.

            I get up. "Hey, Rae. Ha. That rhymes." I role my eyes. "Where ya going?"

            "I'm gonna take a look around campus, probably check out the hockey rink."

            "You want a tour guide?" Louis asks.

            "If it's you, no." He looks injured. Is it an act or supposed to look like an act? "Unless of course you quit your Romeo act and behave normally."

            He looks sheepish. "Sorry. I have to try it on all pretty girls I meet." He grins.

            I grin in return. "Figured as much. But you'll get much farther with me if you just be yourself."

            Fulton speaks up. "Hey, I'll come with you too, make sure Mendoza behaves."

            The others decline for various reasons, chief among them the need to continue unpacking. We head off to explore this strange new world.


	3. Campus

Disclaimer-Ducks Disney's. Rae mine.

Wounded Duck

By SalyaSky

Chapter 3-Campus

            The campus was just as I had envisioned it. It was grandiose and impersonal, the perfect place for rich snobs. All I really want to see is the rink, I'll be spending most of my time there so I should get acquainted with it.

            The outside looks like all the other buildings, but I don't care what it looks like, I just care about how good the facilities are. We enter the arena, not bad, average rink size, good, I hate small rinks, they make me feel cramped, and Olympic size ones take my breath away, and not in a good way. Bleachers on either side of the ice. The benches on one side and the penalty and scorer boxes on the other. My favorite setup, less chance of offsides. It was slightly warm, not a good sign, the pampered fans don't realize how bad it is for us players, warmth equals soft ice and more sweat.

            I turn to the boys. "I'm guessing the ice is soft, huh?"

            "Yeah, usually. Except on really cold days," says Portman.

            "Can you show me the locker rooms?"

            They nod and lead me under the bleachers. There are a total of seven rooms. Four for use by visiting teams and the youth league that shares our ice. The other three were the varsity, jv, and girl's locker room.

            I look at the boys. "The girls dress separately from their teams?

            They nod.

            "Why?"

            Louis furrows his brow. "Many think it is not appropriate for girls to change with guys."

            I blink. "Do you think that?"

            "Not really. Connie and Julie change with us, but other teams had girls who wanted to change separately and so they converted a storage room to a locker room. And now they may be making our girls change in there from now on."

            I make them show me the room. It's small, possibly room enough for three girls, if they squeezed and none of them were goalies. There is no way us Eden Hall girls will all fit, especially if the other team has a girl. And there's not even a shower in here, I bet those visiting girls love those smelly rides home.

            "If I have to change in here I will protest."

            "Aw, come on. It ain't that bad," says Portman.

            I look at him incredulously. "Yes it is. One, it's really, really small. And two, I'll miss out on all the locker room bonding."

            "Yeah, we do have fun in the locker room," Louis says, "and there is a lot of _bonding._"

            I look at him. "Don't start that again."

            "Yeah." Portman smacks him upside the head.

            "So how about showing me the other rooms?"

            "Sure."

            The locker rooms are pretty average. They're good but old, metal lockers instead of wooden, interlinked rubber mats instead of the rugs you see in most well funded arenas. Not a very modern place, guess they used their money for other things.

            "Where's the weight room?"

            "Oh, that's in another building, the gym complex. It holds a track, basketball courts, cardio machines, and weightlifting machines."

            "Can we get in and look around?"  
            "Well, we could, or we could go eat dinner," Louis says.

            "Hungry?" I ask them.

            "Starving!" they both cry in unison.

            I laugh. "Okay, I'll look at the gym some other day."

A/N-Yeah, I know. Boring chapter. I'll try to make the next one better. 


	4. Classes

A/N-Sorry I haven't written in a while but had vacation and didn't want to do any type of work during it. Enjoy!

Wounded Duck

By SalyaSky

Chapter 4-

            First day of classes. Fun, fun, fun. My roomy seems to need about an hour to get ready. Shower, hair and makeup, picking out the _perfect_ (done in an ear bleedingly high voice) outfit, nails, and the final overall primp. You know the final hair and clothes check for a loose hair here or a wrinkle there, both in clothes and face. 

            Me, five minute shower, swipe of gel through hair to spike it, grab the top shirt out of the draw and the closest pair of pants in the closet. After a couple of weeks here I'll probably resort to the sniff test method, search the piles on the floor for the cleanest smelling garments. 

            Today's attire consists of a baggy tournament shirt, most of my shirts are either hand me downs or hockey related and usually baggy, while my roommates are cute and pink. My pants are a pair of baggy, heavily wrinkled cargo pants, again another contrast to my roomy's pressed and painted on jeans.

            I stuff a water bottle in one pocket, a half sized notebook in another, and finally three multicolored pens in another. The best thing about cargoes are their many large pockets. I wave to my still primping roommate and head to class.

            My first class is geometry. I don't particularly like math and I'm not great at it, so this class should be hella fun. I enter the class, nice orderly rows, uninspiring off-white walls, a few math related posters, windows looking out over a lawn (that's where my eyes will be most of the time), blackboard at the front with customary desk and crone-like teacher. You gotta love the old teachers, they move slow, talk slow, and their minds stopped working years ago so all they can do is reiterate the book.

            I take a seat in the back, I have this thing about needing to look at people when they talk, if I'm not in the back I'd end up turning around. The rest of the students file into the classroom and take seats, the brains up front and the jocks in back.

            The seat next to me is taken by a boy. He's of average height, broad of shoulder, short dark hair, and mossy green eyes. His clothes didn't scream prep, in fact they looked slightly unpreppy, being on the baggy side. But I bet I'm correct in thinking he's a jock.

            He turns to me and extends his hand. "Name's Gavin."

            He has a slight accent, can't tell what kind. I take his hand. "Gavin huh? Mine's Rae."

            We shake. "Rae huh? Nice name."

            "Thanks, same to you." I take another look at him. "So what sport do you play?"

            He blinked. "How?" He shook his head and gave a wry smile. "Right. I don't look like a brain, I don't dress like a prep, so that only leaves one other option, I must be a jock."

            I nod and shrug. "That's my deduction. So, am I right.?"

            His smile becomes wider. "Right on target. I'm a hockey player."

            I raise an eyebrow. "What a coincidence, so am I."

            He looks startled.

            "What? Never seen a female hockey player?"

            "No." He shook his head. "I've seen girls play before but not to the caliber required for this school. But that's not to say that they can't. I just . . . uh . . ."

            I grin. "It's okay. I'm not one of those feminists. I agree with you. Most girls can't hack it at this level."

            He looks relieved. 

"You're going to be really amazed at tryouts, there are at least three of us girls trying out.

His eyes widened. Further conversation is prevented by the start of class. 

            "My name is Ms. Mordon," the teacher says in a dry monotone, boy did I guess right. "Please come up and get your book when your name is called."

            As she starts her roll call I turn back to Gavin. "So where you from?"

            "Originally? Scotland. Most recently, Michigan."

            "So another local, huh?"

            "I wouldn't exactly say that. I live far enough away that I need to live on campus. So where you from?"

            "Maine."

            "Gavin Mackenzie," the teacher calls. He goes up front to get his book. He returns with a large volume that must weigh a good pound.

            "Please tell me that's not the geometry book."

            "Nope it's the bible. Well, the mathematicians version. And only a section at that. Can you imagine the thickness of the compiled Mathematician Bible?"

            I barely stifle my laugh. Others near us look at me strangely. "Cute."

            "Agh! Never use that word around me." He looked truly disgusted.

            I raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

            "Only little girly girls and parents referring to their girly girls or possibly in reference to little babies and small children should the word 'cute,'" he shudders in revulsion, "ever be used."

            I stifle another laugh. "Do all Scots think like you?"

            "As far as I know, yeah." He flashes his smile again.

            "Rachel Perrin."

            "Rae."

            "Excuse me." Ms. Mordon looks up from her desk.

            "I prefer to be called Rae."

            "Well, I prefer to call people by their legal name."

            "Okay, but I might not answer if you call Rachel. I'm not used to that name so it may not register."

            She gives me that look that teachers have, the don't start with me look. "You answered me just now."

            "I answered to Perrin, not Rachel." Behind me the room had gone silent a while ago.

            "Well, then I'll just have to call you Miss Perrin," she says through a stiff mouth. "Will that do?"

            I nod and take my book.

            Gavin shakes his head at me.

            "You've already made an enemy and it's only your first class."

            I sigh. "I didn't mean to. Some people are just too . . . sensitive."

            He chuckles. "Yeah, but teachers can make life hell if you don't take into account their 'sensitivities.'"

            "I'll try to keep that in mind."

            The class starts up in earnest and to try for the teacher's good graces we do not speak for the remainder of the class.


	5. Tryouts

A/N-Wow. This sure did turn into a long one. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Hmmmm. Anyway, lets get on with the story cuz that's probably why your hear. Can I just say that I hate baby talk when it is not in reference to cute babies and animals even though it has nothing to do with this story. Sorry annoying people in my room.  
  
  
  
1 Tryouts  
  
The day I had been waiting for. Tryouts. I had to wait an entire month in this preppy hell hole without being able to get on the ice. It was torture. The only way I got through it without going insane was with Gavin's help. Him and I went on morning runs together and went to the gym together. It's great how he has the same coping mechanism as me, when stressed skate, if you can't skate run.  
  
We met other hockey players, some are okay, most are snobs, especially to me. Gavin says my appearance is intimidating but we both now that the reason is my gender. We got to know the Ducks a little more. We were introduced to Varsity superiority. I can't think of them without rolling my eyes. But not all of them are horrendous.  
  
My roomy and I have gotten along okay. I ignore her, she ignores me. To limit the confrontations I spend most of my time out of the room. Gavin and his roommate, Dana, allow me to monopolize their time. Dana isn't a hockey player, but I forgive him because he's a runner. So if Gav is busy I use Dana as a running partner. He's also a pretty cool guy. Intelligent, funny, and doesn't take crap from the bastard preps, although technically preps really aren't bastards because they're to high and mighty to have made a mistake like be born out of wedlock.  
  
So it hasn't been that bad. I've survived so far and now that hockey is starting things will be so much better. We're having a week of tryouts. Each day we have a two hour session, thankfully in the afternoon so I can savor my sleeping in. There are almost 60 of us trying out so the sessions will probably move slowly.  
  
The past week there had been free ice to get our hockey legs back. Gav and I went every chance we got. I was forced by Stephanie, my dear roomy (I tend to forget her name a lot too), to buy loads of Fabreeze and air fresheners or find somewhere else to put my bag. I can't wait till I can leave it in a locker room, it will be much cheaper and hockey equipment isn't supposed to smell like flowers. Why do all the fresheners have to smell like flowers. Anyway, sometimes we saw people but usually not. Gav and I both impressed each other. He's not half bad. The other guys out there treated me with amazement or scorn.  
  
But now is not the time for those thoughts, time to get geared up for tryouts, literally and figuratively. We've been divided into three locker rooms, last year's Varsity in the Varsity locker room, last year's JV in the JV locker room, and us new kids in one of the visitor's locker rooms.  
  
Gav and I walk into the newcomer locker room, immediately the room goes quiet. I ignore them and head for an empty spot that can fit the two of us.  
  
"I'm not changing with a girl," someone says.  
  
I look up. Scanning the faces, I see that many of the guys feel that way.  
  
"What's so bad with changing with a girl?" I ask.  
  
"Well," one guy starts, probably the original deterrent, but he can't come up with a concrete reason.  
  
"Look guys," I say. "Unless you guys like to strip naked and run around the room it's no big deal, same as seeing you in a bathing suit. As for me I know I wont be running around naked and I'm perfectly comfortable in both wearing a bathing suit in public and changing in here."  
  
A few of the guys chuckle, some shrug and go back to getting ready. A few still look indignant.  
  
"What about showering?" Same guy.  
  
"The shower is around a corner, I can't see it from here. Put your towel on over your boxers, take off your boxers, go around the corner, take off your towel, get in the shower, when you are done dry off before you come around the corner, wrap the towel back around your waist, put your boxers on under the towel, then take off your towel and get dressed.  
  
"Of course, we could switch places but then you'd have to wait for the shower. And if you are really paranoid about me seeing you half-naked I'll leave before anyone takes a shower."  
  
Put that way, that they couldn't handle a girl looking at them, along with the perfectly logical thinking I put forth, they couldn't argue and they commenced dressing or undressing whatever may be the case.  
  
A few throw me glances when I take off my pants but only raise a curious eyebrow when they see my boxers. The boy next to me leans over and holds out his hand.  
  
"Colin Reily." I shake his hand  
  
"Rae Perrin."  
  
"Your unique. I like that." He goes back to his dressing. I look at Gav. He grins. A few latecomers look at me oddly when they come in but since no one seems to be paying me any attention they shrug and sit down. I get a few more glances when my shirt comes off. I ignore them. Gavin, who's used to my immodesty, just looks amused. It's not like I don't have a bra on, and it's a sports bra at that. Some people are just too proper.  
  
It's almost time to go on the ice. A guy comes in and hands out jerseys. Half of us get white, half get red. I'm white. Gav's red. I hope that means I get to face off against him.  
  
We exit the locker room and head out to the ice, I guess we're the most eager because no one from the other locker rooms is out yet. We all look at each other. Should we go out yet? Gav and I look at each other and shrug.  
  
"Couldn't hurt," Gav says and steps out onto the ice, I follow suit and the others come on after us. We skate around and do some stretches. Just as we start to get restless the JV come on followed by their coach. The JV looks unhappy. I don't really pay attention to them though because their coach has hockey player candy, pucks. We shoot around, it's kind of crowded. The Varsity finally come on. I've never seen such mass exodus for practices. You usually got sporadic clumps of two or three, and occasionally only one player that comes out at a time. They must want to make a statement. The Varsity looks haughty as always.  
  
The head coach comes on and calls us into a group at center ice. We all kneel down. He looks us over then starts his speech.  
  
"All right guys." He stops and glances at Julie and Connie. "And girls." I roll my eyes. "These tryouts aren't going to be easy. There are 57 of you, there's room for 28 on Varsity and 19 on JV, that leaves 10 to be cut. And those of you from last year don't feel secure in your spots, because they can be taken away. You can move either down or up.  
  
"Now, the setup for the tryouts. We'll have four days of tryouts followed by a red v white game. After the second day of tryouts we will hold the first cuts, those cut that day will have to try again next year. The second cuts will be held after the fourth session, those cut that day will be on the JV team. We will make our final decisions after the red v white game.  
  
"Any question?" There were none.  
  
"All right. We'll start with a little warm up. Start skating the loop, when you hear the first whistle sprint, at the second whistle slow down to half speed. On a double whistle stop and turn back the other way."  
  
He blew his whistle and we start our laps. After the first few I notice that some of the guys are already lagging. (I use guys because when there is a male majority, and to save time, I use guys). I lap a few, Mendoza right next to me.  
  
The first half of practice is all skating drills. Crossovers, starts and stops, pivots, that kind of stuff. The second half we get to use pucks. These drills are slower and a lot of guys look relieved when coach announces that it's puck time. This is my first time to check out the goalies. They're pretty good, except for that Goldberg kid. Ha, he's older than me and I'm calling him kid. I don't think he's been practicing much, he doesn't suck, he's just not as polished as the others. He also looks kind of scared when I approach him.  
  
We finally get to one on one's I love this part. I like to take people out, beat their butts. Heh heh. A few of the guys are tough, but I beat them anyway. This Luke Smith guy almost got me but I broke away just at the end, I didn't get a goal that time though. When I face Gav we both smile, we've been doing this for a week so we both know each others moves. He is my most difficult opponent, but I have a new move and he doesn't. My winning streak probably would end if I had the chance to go against the boys again, now that they are used to me, but we have too many people and we move on to the next drill.  
  
The end of practice comes pretty quickly to me. We again do the warm up drill. Then the coach calls us over to the center again.  
  
"Good job everyone. I can see picking the teams won't be that easy. Same time tomorrow. Bernard, Curtis, lead them in a cool down stretch."  
  
We circle up around the two. I look around at everyone, we're all flushed with exertion, some are still breathing hard, quite a few look relieved, some even have a smug look on their face—they've seen the competition and believe they are better. Yeah, then one day they have a bad day and someone else has a good day and they lose their spot. Tryouts are tricky like that.  
  
Back in the locker room some of the guys start to get nervous again and look my way. I ignore them.  
  
Gavin turns to me. "I almost had you."  
  
I bark a laugh. "Yeah right, you weren't even close."  
  
He smiles. "Next time then."  
  
I smile back. "Next time."  
  
The first guy finishes undressing. He pauses for a moment, glances at me, shrugs, and wraps his towel around his waist. Others follow suit. A hint of a smile crosses my face, first victory.  
  
The boy next to me, Colin I believe it was, speaks up again. "Your good. That's not good." I quirk an eyebrow. "I want to be on Varsity. I missed out last year and ended up going to a different school."  
  
His brows are together, he's no longer looking at me but at his bag. He looks frustrated.  
  
"Hey, just because I'm good doesn't' mean that you won't make Varsity. Just play hard and you'll get the spot you deserve."  
  
He smiles at me. "And if my spot is on JV?"  
  
"Then we'll just have to work on your game."  
  
He cocks his eyebrow. "We?"  
  
"I'll help anyone who needs it."  
  
He smiles and shakes his head. "Definitely unique." He heads for the showers.  
  
  
  
A/N-I know I haven't talked much about the Ducks but I'll get to tem so just hold your horses. And review! 


	6. Cuts

1 Cuts  
  
The fourth session, the second cuts. Those cut today would be on JV. I am fairly secure as is Gavin and Colin, we don't believe we'll be out this early. All the Varsity and Ducks are secure, I think that's a little premature. I'm surprised some of them even made it this far. Some of the boys who have gone before have potential to be really good players. I told them I'd work with them once tryouts settled down.  
  
The tryouts have gone well so far. I got to know a lot of the newby boys. They got used to me. Some turned out pretty cool. Colin turned out "unique" even though I was warned that his brother had been the haughty Varsity captain last year and king jerk of the school. I plan to keep close watch on Colin to make sure that he doesn't follow in his brother's footsteps. So far he's been good. The twins are great, quite the funny duo. Vachon and Daniels are a couple more that stand out. Daniels has to live in his brother shadow, the senior goalie. Scooter.  
  
He's cool, Scooter is. Nicest of the Varsity. We have a sort of private joke between us. When I go against him he smirks and says "Now I actually have to work." I shoot back "Or you can just face the music and move out of my way." We keep score with each other. We've had a few arguments over the tally, when that happens we start over saying we're probably even anyway. His little brother has the same good humor.  
  
Luke Smith, another older brother and varsity defensemen, perks up when we face each other, he enjoys our contests so. After our bought we exchange compliments or insults, for example "Where the hell did you learn that move?" or "Ha ha. I beat your ass." We're pretty even in our beat/block record. I don't think I've ever beaten him twice consecutively and vice versa.  
  
I've been paired with Banks a few times. He's primarily a scorer. We like to show off to each other during the pre-practice shoot around. We've taught each other a few moves.  
  
The Portman goon got really frustrated once when I dodged his check. He smirked at me and said something to the effect of "wimpy girl who can't take a check." He stopped that grumbling when I hit him. He respects me now and with him comes Reed.  
  
I have a soft spot for Todd Stack. My brother's name was Todd, and he'd be Stack's age now. He's also a good player, and was one of the only people I didn't have to prove that I can play as well as any guy in order to be accepted. The first to treat me as just another Freshman. Why does he have to be named Todd, why does he have to be so similar to my brother? I have been a little reflective since I learned Stack's name. Gav noticed. I just said memories, and he left me alone. He knew I wouldn't talk until I wanted to.  
  
Time to stop studying the faces, Coach Stevens is ready to read the dreaded list. "Remember, those listed will be on the JV team," he begins, "Averman," the ducks all have wide eyes, not one of them cut?! Oh no!(Sarcastically said if you didn't figure it out). Never mind that he was still playing. They are a bit too naïve, they weren't the best of the best, they were just some of the best upholding the rest. Back to the list. "Fournier, King, Marley, Matthews, Moreau, Tyler, Ware, and Wu." The Ducks are stunned speechless. Their little group can't stop staring at Coach. Four of their own regulated to the group of second to worst. Have I mentioned that at every gathering the ducks have their own group while the rest of us intermingle. I'm not even next to Gavin right now.  
  
"Those of you not called show up an hour early tomorrow to receive your team assignments for the game."  
  
We head off. The newly JV players look unhappy, a bit dejected. I slap Marley on the back. "Hey guys, at least you weren't in the first cuts." They shrug noncommittally. "Plus, JV is usually more fun. Less pressure."  
  
Some smile at me, probably just to humor me. I smile knowingly back causing their smiles to become genuine.  
  
Ware speaks up. "Yeah, and now we no longer have to worry. We have our place. You guys don't. Do you want to borrow my Tylenol or maybe some Pepto to settle your stomach?"  
  
The others mock glare at him. Tension breaks and we start talking and joking as if it were just another practice.  
  
Gavin leans over. "You're a miracle worker, you know?"  
  
I frown at him. "How'd you come by that?"  
  
"You set up this release of tension. You got guys comfortable with your gender, you snuck past Varsity superiority to find the inner fun lover, and you broke into the Duck secret society."  
  
I think for a minute then smile. "And you know what?"  
  
"You're not done yet."  
  
We both break out in laughter.  
  
  
  
R&R please!! Thank you. 


	7. Red v White

Red v. White 

            I'm in the JV locker room. My jersey is red. I had to give my speech again. There are fewer detractors this time, I guess most of them keep forgetting I'm female. Gav's on the team, so is Luke. Too bad. The other D don't have a chance. The plus is I get to face Scooter. That'll be fun. We're going to be coached by one of the Varsities assistant coaches. The two head coaches are going to watch. The game is going to be attended by a majority of the school. I hate audiences, they're just a distraction. Okay, so sometimes they can pump you up, but I don't need them to. The game is enough, I would play just as hard on a lake in the middle of nowhere, actually I'd probably play harder.

            Game time. I'm confidant yet nervous as we step out onto the ice. As we are going through our warm-up I sing Itsy Bitsy Spider softly to myself. Tommy Curtis comes up beside me and smiles.

            "You look nervous. How can _you _be nervous?"

            "Well, it is my first high school game even though it's not official. And this is the largest crowd I've ever had at one of my games."

            He glances up at the audience. "Well, you'll have to get used to it, because this is the normal amount at one of our games."

            "JV too?"

            He smirks. "Come on, Rae. You know you're going to make Varsity. I'm even afraid that you'll take my spot."

            The guy in front of us turns around, it's Aaron Millet, one half of the twins. "Plus, like you always tell us, just focus on the fun."

            I laugh. "Thanks guys."

            By the end of the warm-up I feel ready. Nervousness banished, my fun center activated, a hug grin on my face. The grin seems to be infectious, everyone starts to grin. I start at center, Casey Warner is across from me. We grin at each other, these guys are fun to play with. Gav would say I infected them with good humor.

            The game goes well. It's pretty even, although my team's winning, of course. (I'm not full of myself, really). We've all been getting even playing time. The lines are constantly being switched around, even our positions are. I've played a few times at wing.

            Towards the end it gets a little rough out there. I think we're all getting desperate to show our stuff. I try not to let the adrenaline get to me too much, emotion clogs the brain, causes you to make mistakes. Ah hell, it's almost over, time to let loose, and I lose myself to the game.

            When the final horn blows logical thought once again surfaces within my brain. That's the funnest type of hockey, the kind where you don't think just act. When I'm being assessed I think, because when I just act I don't care if we win or lose or if I do good or bad, I just play. Some people think I play better at this stage, some say I just look berserko, because I do go all out, my body turns into a tool and I'll throw it in front of a slap shot if it gets me the puck.

            The crowd is cheering as we head off. We must have given them a good game. In the locker room we celebrate, I mean we did win. There are a few who complain about how much they sucked today. We all try to convince them otherwise. Me personally wouldn't know, I don't pay much attention to how well others are doing unless it directly effects the play at the moment. 

            Chris Shimek, the other goalie, comes over to me. "You know," he starts, "as a goalie you get to see the entire ice. And what I saw from you was short of amazing. What got into you those last five minutes? Did you shoot up or something?"

            I laugh. "Yeah, that's right. I took a shot of pure sugar."

            He grins. "But seriously, what was that?"

            I shrug. "I just decided to quit worrying about what the coaches thought and had fun."

            "You should do it more often."

            "Yeah but only when the opponent isn't someone you like," Millet spoke up, "Did you hear Warner whining after she hit him?"

            The room broke into laughter.

~~~~~

            We mill around in the stands after we get out of the locker rooms. Nervousness is back full force. The coaches are picking the teams at this very moment. I send a silent prayer to the hockey god for myself and the rest of my friends. I see Aidan Matthews clasping his hands before him, eyes closed, lips moving. I smile, he's praying too.

            Curtis walks up to me. "Are you going to start singing the Spider song again?"

            I laugh. "Nah, I'm beyond that. Now I'm praying?"

            He chuckles and moves to sit. I sit between Gav and Colin. The coaches choose this moment to appear.

            "First of all," Coach Stevens starts, "I'd like to congratulate you all on a great game. You gave our fans quite a show.

            "Now the thing you've all been waiting for. Those I name will be on Varsity, the rest of you will be on JV." He pauses for dramatic effect or more likely to prolong our suffering.

            "Banks, Bernard, Brewer, Conway, Curtis," he said them slowly, deliberately so there is no question as to who he says, "S. Daniels, T. Daniels," Trevor made it, good for him, "Dukes, Finch, Gaffney, Germaine," the Ducks are getting twitchy, "Lupi, Mackenzie," I slap Gavin on the back, "Mahoney, Melton, Mendoza," more severe twitching, "Perrin," I knew it all along," Portman, Reily," yay Colin, my congratulatory slap is interrupted by the launching of Portman from his seat, but he is restrained by the others. Coach ignores him and continues, "Shimek, Slusher, L. Smith, Stetson, Thompson, Wallace, Warner."

            He pauses. Some of the guys have smiles or smirks on their faces, some have disappointment. The Ducks look spitting mad.

            "The first Varsity practice will be Monday at five am. You'll receive schedules and equipment. Make sure you arrive 45 minutes before practice time." There is a low groan. "The practice will go to 6:30."      

            He steps back and Coach Orion steps forward. "The first JV practice will be Monday at 4pm. Show up an hour early to receive your equipment."

            The coaches leave. The players erupt, the Ducks in yelling, the rest in talking. I congratulate everyone who made Varsity and give condolences to the JV. The Ducks yelling starts to annoy me so I decide to speak to them.

            I move to stand in front of them. They don't notice.

            "Guys,' I say. They continue to yell.

            I grab the loudest two, Conway and Portman, and shove them down into sitting positions. They all stop shouting and look at me, startled. A few shake it off quickly and glare. I glare right back.

            "What the hell is your guys' problem?"

            They're speechless for a second, then "captain" Charlie speaks up.

            "They split us up," he pouts. I almost roll my eyes.

            "So? You'd eventually be split up in some way or another."

            "But we've been together for almost five years," he whines.

            "Is that all?"

            He blinks. "And some of us grew up together."

            "And you're _still_ growing up together."

            They look at me blankly.

            "I was on a team with the same people for over seven years. I admit I didn't get to grow up with them until three years ago, and then with only half of them. But at the point where we were closest I was torn away. And now I'm here, alone. You guys still have old friends on your team, _and_ you get to live with all of them. I can't even talk to mine."

            "B . But," stuttered Portman this time, "they split up the Bash Brothers."

            "And my coming here split up the best offensive line in New England."

            "Yeah, and wouldn't you give anything to go back? Didn't you come here kicking and screaming?"

            "Yes, at first I was kicking and screaming, I thought my life was finally shot to hell for good. I thought someone must be really pissed at me to take me down just as I was getting back on my feet.

            "I was angry. I was sad. But then I got to know everyone here, my new teammates, the coaches. And I realized that my move wasn't necessarily a fall. Here I am more challenged, here I am exposed to more people. I don't need to be surrounded by my original friends to be happy, it would be nice to have them near, which you do, but I am happy to have the new friends that I do. I left fifteen brothers and sisters for forty-seven."

            There is silence at the end of my speech. All the non-Ducks look on in awe and amazement. The Ducks are too stunned to think. Conway is the first to start processing my words. Portman scrunches up his brow in thought. The others mimic him.

            "So you're kind of saying be happy with what you got, right?" Charlie asks.

            I look to the heavens in thanks, they got it. I nod to them. "Basically. Even though it is a bit cliché."

            A small voice speaks up seeming to be afraid to contradict me. "What about Varsity/JV rivalry?"  
            I harrumph and turn around facing the others, in particular the juniors and seniors. "We're going to give up this stupid Varsity/JV rivalry, aren't we? We're going to help each other instead of ignore or insult, aren't we?"

            They cower before my gaze. The braver nod. I smile, it looks a bit evil at the moment. "Good." I don't expect it to be that easy but they'll come around eventually. I will see to it.

            I linger as everyone leaves. Soon I am the only one left. I look out over the ice and sigh. I have a huge job ahead of me. Not only do I have to see to my own happiness, I have to see to the happiness of forty-seven others. I felt a hand rest on my shoulder.

            "You just made our jobs a whole lot easier."

            I look over, it's Coach Stevens. I let out my breath. "Yeah, I tend to do this a lot. The last time I did I was forced on to a new challenge." I look at him sadly, half pleadingly. "I don't want to be torn away again, but I also can't stand not to help people in need."

            His hand squeezes my shoulder and his eyes turn hard. "You'll not be taken away from here. I'll make sure of that."

            He pats my shoulder and leaves. I look after him, a smile slowly spreads over my face. It might not be so bad here after all.

The End.

A/N-Before any one says, "End!! End!! This can't be the end!!" I would just like to say in my defense that I will be writing a sequel. Do you think I would be so cruel to just stop? Well, I am but I have more to say. So stay calm, everything will be okay. And don't forget to review.!!


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